The Warrior
by Thorgun
Summary: Follow the adventure of the unknown warrior through the grasslands and forests of Westmarch, the deserts and caves of Aranoch, the jungles, lost city, and catacombs beneath Kurast, through the pits of hell themselves, and up Mt. Areat. R&R please.


The sounds of battle could be heard, from a short distance away. Demonic screams, bones creaking, and the sound of metal against metal, metal against flesh, and metal against earth could be heard, and FELT by the rogues in the encampment.

Grunting, several rapid clanks, the loosing of an arrow, and a low whistle, then a wet, gorey WHUURRRK. A fight was happening just outside the gate, but the rogues couldn't spot it. Then,suddenly a loud, demonic and yet familiar scream ripped through the night air, and caused a chill to run down the spine of even the most battle-hardened in the camp. One of the corrupted sisters of the order had been slain... much closer to the camp then they were normaly heard of. "May the light rest her soul" Akara said giving a small shake of her head, and a light sigh.

Warriv shifted nervously and watched the camp entrance intently. Even the rogues on guard seemed to be afraid. The soft sound of boots on dirt then echoed through the encampment, and Kashya stood rigid, and stared at the entrance from her position, pacing near the middle of the camp.

The rogues at the gap in the walls gasped, and soon everyone knew why. In walked a lone warrior, dragging behind him by the scalps, the lifeless heads of nearly thirty fallen warriors, ten of the cursed roaming Zombies, and cradling gently, the body of a dead former follower of the sisterhood of The Sightless Eye.

He stood tall, at least compared to the rather diminutive rogues who filled most of the camp. Warriv and Gheed wouldn't measure up to but his nose, if you counted hair. He was clad in dull, and slightly rusting armor, that had clearly seen better days. At his side, instead of the expected sword, was an axe, so freshly used that it was still dripping the blood of the last foe to fall to it. And across his back, one could see a very long spear, twice as tall as the shortest rogue in the camp, but only an arms length above his head.

"She deserves a proper burial" was all that he said, barely heard, by all but the rogue standing right next to him. He walked purposefully over to Kashya, and dropped the lifeless body in front of her, looking directly at her face as he did so. She flinched slightly, but didn't look away. "Who are you, to barge in like you own this place?" she asked, "to kill our sister, and then bring her back to us, dead? Have you no shame?" she pressed. He simply grinned at her and walked away, towards Charsi.

Charsi watched him with apprehension, wondering why he was coming to her. He pulled his axe from his hip, and at once every rogue in the camp notched an arrow. He turned his axe around, and held it out to her, handle first, while fishing in a pack on his back. Out his hand came, and every rogue tensed again, before relaxing, seeing the distinctive glint

of a handful of gold.

"A Fallen thought it would be fun to try and block my axe... He got his own sword to his face, by the force behind the swing... and my axe got a rather nasty nick... Do you think you could fix it for me, seeing as your the blacksmith of this camp, I believe?" He explained, and asked. He quirked an eyebrow at the rogues, still more wary of him, then the demons outside the gate.

Charsi nodded at him, too shocked by the dry, and rasping sound of his voice, to respond vocally. He nodded a thanks, and walked to an empty corner of the encampment. 'His voice matches his appearance- worn and ragged' she thought to herself, as he walked to the far corner of the encampment, to the south of Akara.

Out of his pack, he pulled a long length of sturdy rope, and a large roll of fabric. He looked around on the ground for a moment,before picking up two large sticks, and four smaller, wider sticks. He drove them in the ground, and tied the cloth to them, making a small one man tent.

"What is your name, warrior?" a rogue called out and he stopped, half stooped over, and turned to look at her. He gave a rough sort of half smile for a second, and said "You won't need to know..." before ducking into his tent, and closing the flap behind himself.

"What an odd man," Warriv said. He shook his head, and went back to tending to the campfire in the middle of the camp. He thought to himself about the warrior, and looked up, just in time to see a rogue headed for Kashya. 'Ah, another report, this one should be interesting...' he thought to himself, and remained quiet, straining his ears to hear the conversasion.

Kashya fumed to her self, and paced furiously. 'who does he think he is... That egotistical warrior brought one of our own to us... DEAD.' she thought to herself. "Miss Kashya?" the rogue who had earlier heard him spoke up very quietly, fearful of her commander's wrath. "WHAT" Kashya yelled, and the rogue flinched. "I'm sorry," she sighed, "What is it, Flavie?" she asked again.

"He said she deserves a burial." and with that statement, all of Kashya's harsh thoughts, and indeed ALL of her thoughts were silenced. She stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. That an outsider would even think of the rogues in general was rare... but to have him expressing grief even for the corrupted rogues... Warriv blinked several times, sure that he had heard wrong.

Kashya decided she liked this outsider. He may be a drain on their already thin supplies now that he's here, but one that at least thinks of those who sacrificed themselves to provide the shelter he uses from which to fight. She would put up with him, and not go out of her way to make him feel unwelcome, like she would with any other outsider.

More footsteps echoed out, through the silence in the camp, and a very large man, with symbols painted over his body stepped into view. "I am Thor'k'mal Of Areat. And I intend to save all of you- and all of those that cant fight for your own safety." He said, in a very confident, and slightly condescending voice. He looked around at all the rogues, with that look of "I'm better then you all" in his eyes. Kashya simply rolled her eyes and sighed. 'Great, another one... He wont last the week Kashya, just hold your sanity for that much longer.' she thought to herself. But if only she knew how wrong she would prove to be.

A/N: Second chapter in the works already. Leave comments about any mistakes you spotted, and I'll fix 'em.


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